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Cold Sky Above, Crashing Sea Below

You told us
your life
was going to be
a dead run
or a dead stop,
“and absolutely nothing else!”
Then you smashed
down the pedal
and held it there
until all your
haughtiness
(and the highway)
was gone. Well,
you won't need
cigarettes or gas
where you’ve gone:
cold sky above,
crashing sea below,
and absolutely nothing else.
Farewell, farewell
(idiot),
farewell.

I'm Michelle. This is my blog. I write about women and fatness, expound upon semi-coherent thoughts I have in the middle of the night, and offer tough love to those in whom I am disappointed; they are legion.